“How’s Maizie?” Gray could’ve toppled Ester with a good sneeze. She blinked at him across the table, mouth lax.

“My Little Red? She’s good. Fine. She’s just fine. I thought…”

“I know.” Gray knew what she was thinking. He’d made it clear he wanted to forget the girl even existed. No mention of her-ever. That was the rule. But she wasn’t a little girl anymore and his brain couldn’t seem to let her go. He hadn’t seen her for days, since that night in the woods, but he could still smell the sugary sweetness of her body, taste her tangy skin.

He shrugged. “It’s been a long time.”

Granny nodded, pushing the box of gingerbread cookies closer to his plate. “Too long. It wasn’t her fault-”

“Ester.” It was a warning, but he didn’t mean to growl. He just wasn’t ready to go there. He chewed the last bite of peanut butter sandwich and snatched up two of the cookies.

Gray chuckled, looking the tiny little man over, front and back. “She made these. All these years it was her baking I was eating.”

“Sure was,” Granny said. “Her mama taught her. I think they remind Maizie of better days. She’s been baking them since she was a little girl. Same length of time you’ve been eating them.”

“Strange.”

“Or fate,” Granny said. “You both lost a piece of yourselves that night. Stands to reason you’d each have what the other needs to make up for it.”

Gray tossed the cookies back into the box. “Enough, Ester. They’re cookies.”

“I just meant-”

“I lost my wife.” He lowered his voice. “My mate. You know about me, about us, what we are. We mate for life. She’s gone. Nothing can make up for that.”

“Humph.” Granny snatched one of the gingerbread cookies and bit off its head. A heavy silence settled between them. Gray let his gaze drift over the room.

Green Acres’ social hall was bright and inviting. Soft yellow walls decorated with country crafts and vintage pictures. Round white tables with matching chairs filled the largest part of the room. The smaller areas were busy with comfortable green couches and upholstered chairs.

People visited with relatives, watching television and playing games, even rippling out a tune on the grand piano.

Gray’s attention focused across the room to the wall of open glass doors, the patio outside and the forest far beyond. He tried to imagine himself trapped in a place like this. As nice as it was, it wasn’t freedom.

“Stop scowling, Gray. I’m happy here. I’ve got friends and I see more of you and Maizie than I ever did at the cottage.”

He swung his gaze to her. She knew him well. “Don’t you miss it? The cottage? The forest?”

Ester shrugged. “Sure. Sometimes. But I’m an old woman, not a beautiful wolf. This is where I belong.”

He reached over and took her hands in his. “I could change that, Ester. One nip. A small bit of blood. You’d feel years younger, have years and years left to live.”

Granny laughed, a sweet-old-lady laugh. “No, dear. This is my life. I’m happy. Soon I’ll be seeing my Frank again. I don’t want to put that off any longer. Maizie is the one I’m worried about. And you.”

Gray shifted in his seat, taking back his hands and rubbing his palms on his thighs. “I’m fine. And Maizie’s…Maizie is…”

“A wonderful young lady who’s too gosh-darn busy trying to make her life perfect she’s missing out on the best part. Love. And you-”

“Ester.” He tried to stop the lecture he knew was coming.

“Hush, and let an old lady have her say for once. You’re so busy mourning what you’ve lost you can’t see all that’s slipping through your fingers.”

She leaned forward and rested her soft withered hand on his arm. “I know you mate for life, dear, and the woman who died was your wife. You loved her. But that doesn’t mean she was your life’s mate. The heart wants what it wants. Tell me, Mr. Lupo, what is that wolf heart of yours whispering to you about my Little Red?”